


Punkstuck DirkJake I

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dirk helps Jake dye his hair</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punkstuck DirkJake I

You’re not sure if you’re excited or nervous as you follow Dirk into the drugstore. There’s not much of a reason for you to be nervous, since your hair is already a pretty dark brown. All you’re doing is dyeing it black, which is not that many shades darker.

Maybe it’s Dirk’s presence that’s making you nervous? Yeah, you think that has to be it. You’ve never dyed your hair, but you can’t remember the last time you saw his natural hair color. You blame him for intimidating you with his experience and his casual demeanor and his. Stuff.

You follow him anyway though, because there’s no way he’d let you back out. You’ve been talking a lot about wanting to dye your hair lately. He offered to help you, probably so that you’d shut up about it. The very last thing you want to do is annoy him further and come off as ungrateful. So you keep telling yourself that you shouldn’t be nervous, he’s your best friend and he won’t let it turn out badly.

It doesn’t take you two long to find the health and beauty section, and the aisle of dyes. You’re suddenly glad that you didn’t come alone. You have no idea what the difference is between these brands.

There are five different kinds of the shade you want. Each one looks exactly the same to you. You sneak a look at Dirk out of the corner of your eye, and he’s watching you. You pick up a box of the cheapest one and start reading it and acting like you know what it’s talking about.

Apparently you’re not fooling him. He snatches it out of your hand and puts it back. “That brand fades out too quickly,” he says. “Two extra dollars will be worth it.”

“So what’s your favorite brand?” You figure he’d end up recommending it anyway, now that you think about it. Sure enough, he taps a box just out of your reach, and you recognize the color in the model’s hair in his. Dirk’s hand drops past the blondes, gingers, brunettes, until it finally snatches up the darkest dye you see.

He flips it over and glances at the back for a few seconds before handing it to you. “That dark enough?” he asks, tapping the chart that shows how your hair will turn out. His finger points to the bottom row, and the shade of brown in the first column is the closest to yours, but the entire second column looks the same to you.

With an enthusiastic nod and a smile, you start to leave the aisle. He grabs your wrist to stop you. He mutters something you don’t quite catch and lets you go and makes his way down to the very end of the aisle. Curiously, you follow him and see him grab two boxes of dye – bleach like he already has, and red. Not ginger either, like spellcheck red.

You look at him with an eyebrow raised. He stares right back at you and says “It’s for me.” After another beat of silence, he adds “I probably won’t use the whole thing though, if you wanna try something new.”

He makes a U-turn into the next aisle and you ponder the idea as you follow him. You assume he’s just doing streaks, or else he would need the whole thing (at least you’d guess so, judging by how much hair he has). If that’s true, and he didn’t use it all, you two could have matching red streaks. You’ve already got several sets of matching earrings since they come in pairs and you each only have one ear pierced. Hell, you’ve even planned to get matching tattoos when you turn eighteen. At this point you might as well have matching hair too.

“Yo, do you use conditioner?” It takes you a moment to come out of your thoughts but when you do, you see Dirk holding a bottle of shampoo for color treated hair.

You shrug. “I usually get a two in one. Do I need to use that?”

He nods. “You can pick the brand if you want, but if you use regular shampoo it’ll wash your dye out.”

Yeah, you’re definitely glad you brought Dirk with you to tell you these things. The kind he picked up was the same kind you usually use, and you wonder if it was a coincidence or he knew that. If he did know, you wonder how. But you pick up a bottle of conditioner to go with your shampoo and decide to put it out of your mind.

It only takes you a little under a quarter of an hour to pay for everything and go home. Once there, you don’t waste any time in heading to the bathroom with your materials. Dirk has you put the toilet seat down and sit as he opens the package of black dye.

“Your hair is clean, isn’t it?” he asks, reaching over and running a hand through it. You bat at his arm and roll your eyes. “Of course it is. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for an excuse to touch me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he starts pulling stuff out of the box. “Can you really blame me, English?” His voice isn’t missing any snark, but he isn’t making eye contact. He’s even blushing a little.

You almost questioned his need for an excuse, but that thought made you blush too. So you settled for taking out your earrings and watching Dirk pull on a pair of disposable gloves and mix two chemicals together.

As he twists a cap on the bottle and shakes it, you watch the dye start to turn a dark green. Frankly, it looks a little gross. He notices your expression before you get a chance to say anything. “Your hair isn’t gonna be this color,” he says. He checks to make sure the dye is mixed well, and pops open the cap when it passes inspection.

“Now, this stuff is going to stink.” You start to get nervous again as you feel the dye in your hair. Dirk uses one hand to squeeze the stuff onto your head and the other to rub it into your hair. You try to stay still for him, resisting the urge to scratch slightly where he’s already finished.

In a few minutes, you do start to smell it. “Christ, how do you do this every other month?” You wrinkle your nose, and Dirk shrugs. “You get used to it.” He pauses to kick the bathroom door fully open.

His hands move around to the back of your head and that’s when it starts to get a little awkward. He has to come into your personal space to reach around. You bend your head to try to make it easier but it fails spectacularly. If anything, that makes it worse. Now your face is practically in his crotch.

You really wish you could move your head, but you don’t want to move too much and get on Dirk’s nerves. You close your eyes and stick it out. It’s a little easier when you can’t see him. Still, you can smell him despite the dye, and you can feel his body heat.

Finally his movement ceases. His hand doesn’t move from your head at first as he checks one side and then the other to make sure he didn’t miss any spots. “Alright, you’re done.” Just like that the heat and his hand are gone. You lift your head to see him taking off the gloves and dumping them in the trash.

“How does it look?” you ask dumbly. That gets you a snort. “Like you’ve got dye in your hair. You’ve got to wait twenty minutes.”

You check the time and make a mental note of it before looking back at Dirk. “Well, we’ve got time to start a movie!”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No, we’re not watching a movie.”

“Well, we’re not watching your cartoons either.”

He shrugs. Apparently your lack of interest in his stuff doesn’t bother him as his lack of interest in your stuff bothers you. “So, what should we do in twenty minutes?”

You shrug this time. “How about we do your hair?”

“You’re not going to do streaks?” He picks up the box of bleach idly, getting ready to open it.

“I don’t know, I want to see how just the black looks first.”

“Then we should wait,” he says as he puts the box down.

You frown as he leans against the counter. “Why can’t we do your hair now?”

“Because if we mix it now, it’ll go bad by the time we can use it on yours.” With a smirk, he adds “It’s like you’re looking for an excuse to touch my hair now.”

For lack of a better response, you echo his tone and ask “Well, can you blame me, Strider?”

You realize too late that your face is heating up again, but only because his is too. He misses a beat and you wonder if he’ll end the conversation here again. Instead, he makes the comment you didn’t. “You need an excuse besides that?”

You stand up and keep your back straight so you can match his height. “Guess not,” you say. You reach out and start playing with his hair. You can’t tell what his reaction is. You don’t think he can either. The corner of his mouth is raised in a smirk that might be triumphant, except he might be trying not to laugh, and his cheeks are still red. His eyes drop to your feet as you continue staring at his expression, trying to decode it.

If you thought your face between his legs was awkward, this is just uncomfortable. You’re playing with his hair for god’s sakes. This is going from ‘slightly sexual subtext’ to ‘wow you guys might as well be a couple’. You’re reminded again of the matching earrings and tattoos.

You struggle to think of a way out of this, but the thing is you’re not sure if you want to. It’s awkward, sure, but is it unpleasant? You don’t think so. Apparently Dirk doesn’t think so either, or he would’ve pulled away by now.

You catch him look up at your lips and back down at the floor again.

Oh.

Before you can think too hard about it, you bend down awkwardly rather than moving his face towards yours. You nearly miss his mouth because he moves away out of shock. You take it as a bad sign and begin to pull away, but he kisses you back before you have a chance.

Once you straighten up and adjust to each other, it’s rather nice. You start to wonder why you didn’t do this sooner. You only pull away when you remember the dye in your hair. You did get a little bit in his bangs.

Your expression is all the warning he needs. Dirk turns to the mirror and…starts laughing. “Good thing I got bleach to touch this up.”

He turns on the faucet and starts testing the water with his fingers. “Here, let me help you with that,” you say, placing one hand on the back of his neck and the other on the counter. As you start washing the dye out of his bangs you look up at yours and see that they look pretty much undamaged.

You wait until the water stops running black to turn it off and grab a hand towel. He wraps it around his head expertly into a kind of turban.

The awkwardness threatens to return before he says “So, no kissing with hair dye in. Sorry, but it looks like we’ll have to find another way to pass the time.”

You smile at him devilishly. “Who says? We just have to be careful.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Can you be careful?”

“Just what are you implying there?”

“That you’re never careful.”

You shove him playfully, but not nearly hard enough to actually do anything. He probably doesn’t even feel it. “Shut up. Yes I can be.”

With a smirk, he leans in. “Why don’t you prove it?”

Now that he’s expecting it, it’s easier to do just that. You think maybe you’ll let him dye streaks in your hair too, if this will happen every time he helps you dye your hair.

**Author's Note:**

> As of right now there are no plans for a second punkstuck dirkjake, but it wouldn't surprise me if I got a request for one so. That's why the title is numbered.


End file.
